Anthem for Doomed Youth
Wilfred Owen
1893 to 1918
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What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
— Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,—
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may held to speed them all?
Not in the of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.